


Art, or something approximating that

by bubblegumheart (bluememory)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Facepainting, Fluff and Humor, I Tried, ish, kid's carnival things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:28:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluememory/pseuds/bubblegumheart
Summary: In which Natasha is stuck in the facepainting booth at a kid's carnival and it's really all Bucky's fault
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 14
Kudos: 23





	Art, or something approximating that

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文-普通话 國語 available: [也许这就是艺术吧](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23308270) by [ExactlyJessie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExactlyJessie/pseuds/ExactlyJessie)



> I think I saw a prompt about this on tumblr somewhere and the plot got stuck in my head so I tried. 
> 
> Thanks for helping me look over this, Li <3

It's Bucky's fault really, all of this. And the promise of all the ice cream in the world isn't going to cut it anymore. Natasha deserves cold hard cash for every hour spent in this uncomfortable chair interacting with squealing squirming untidy children. She glares at the miserable child with badly painted black splotches on her face; it's supposed to be cute, it's supposed to make her look like a puppy, it looks like an odd assortment of growths. 

The child squints into the mirror and her face scrunches up and oh god she is going to cry. Natasha is not paid to deal with this. Hell she's being not paid at all. It's all Bucky's fault, Bucky and his 'volunteering is good for the soul!' when everyone knows it's just because he has a dumb crush on the tiny domineering blonde who's organising this carnival and has somehow managed to convince everyone to do his bidding. 

Steve Roberts. Or something.

But Natasha is a great friend, so Natasha agreed to sign up with him and Natasha has ended up here. With all the children. And paint she doesn't know how to use. And naturally, Bucky has been assigned a role somewhere else. Probably with popcorn or cotton candy or wherever is closest to that Steve guy. She rolls her eyes at the thought. 

She isn't too bad with kids, honestly. She really isn't. In fact she's pretty good. At least, when they come in quantities of less than five. But right now she's dealing with about 10 unhappy kid customers. Plus parents. 

The disgruntled complaining from around her is increasing in volume, the discontent almost palpable. And she's just about bracing herself to talk, or well, to fight her way out of the impending chaos of angsty children when a foreign hand enters her vision and gently plucks the paintbrush out of hers. Another hand takes the container of face paint. 

The hands belong to a vaguely familiar human; close-cropped blonde hair on a square-jawed face, with laughing eyes that twinkle as he dabs paint on the child's face, somehow transforming the tumours into puppy spots, turning grotesque to adorable. The child's frown flips into a smile and suddenly the sea of discontent becomes exuberance, each child clamouring to be next, to undo Natasha's work. 

Natasha heaves a reluctant sigh of relief. She's not fond of being cast as a damsel in distress, or being saved by a knight in any form, but it probably has to be admitted that this "knight" had come just in the nick of time. 

"You're Natasha Romanoff right?" The question surprises her. The guy is still painting little stars on the sides of a young boy's eye so he isn't quite looking at her, but she can see the flickering sideways glances. 

"Yes? Do I know you?"

The guy laughs softly. "Kind of, but not really. We're in the same history lecture. You're always at the back with James Barnes. We sit in the same row. I'm always in the corner." 

His face suddenly becomes a little more familiar. "Oh you're Clint Barton!" 

Natasha has noticed him, just casually, out of the corner of her eye. Clint always sits in the corner, quiet and like he's dozing off, but when called on, knows the answer anyway. Natasha thinks he might enjoy people underestimating him and then later surprising the hell out of them; it's a tactic she uses herself. 

"You're good at that," she tells him, nodding at the butterfly he's drawing on a little girl's face. 

Clint shrugs. "My dad worked at the circus; he did his own makeup. I used to follow him and he'd teach me." The child he's working on says something and he replies, voice soft and soothing.

Natasha's eyebrows raise. "That sounds like something out of a comic series." 

"He was an acrobat."

"Really."

"Yeah. Wanna get coffee with me after this while I tell you about that?"

The unexpected segue makes Natasha sputter then laugh. She contemplates his profile, biting back a smile. "Oh, why the hell not?" 

"Why not, indeed?" Clint is now painting leopard stripes onto a boy's face but she can still see his grin, bright like sunlight. 

⁂

They go for coffee after the carnival ends, then again one week later. Coffee becomes study dates, which become dinners and drinks. 

Clint doesn't sit in the corner at lectures anymore, instead he sits next to Natasha and sneaks her answers to questions she may not know, tells her jokes that actually make her giggle and sometimes kisses her ear. 

Bucky isn't too amused but that doesn't matter. It was all his fault anyway. 


End file.
